Crocuses and Tulips
by Xtremeroswellian
Summary: What is left behind when someone you love dies?


Title: Crocuses and Tulips  
Author: Xtremeroswellian  
Email: adwilliams03yahoo.om  
Rated: PG  
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine. Inspired but the wonderful writing of Joan of Arcadia, Amber Tamblyn who played Joan and Sprague Grayden who portrayed Judith.  
Spoilers: Up through and including "Friday Night."

Crocuses and Tulips

The winter came and went in Arcadia but few felt its bitter cold as deeply as Joan Girardi, who stumbled through meaningless (well, meaningless to her anyway) things like class and work. Then there were the tasks from God, which brought light into her otherwise darkened world, but which always faded in the dark of night.

The world moved on, and would do so with or without her and some days she truly didn't see the point, despite the vague conversations with the Almighty about a larger purpose, about seeing outside herself.

She could do that well enough sometimes. She saw the effects her tasks had on others, how drastically it changed things, how far reaching the ripples were. But somehow it still didn't ease the ache in her heart she'd had since Mid-November, the one she was sure she was never going to lose. The one part of her wasn't sure she wanted to lose because losing that ache would be the end.

Sometimes she was sure she was the only one who remembered. Oh, they all remembered from time to time, but no one felt it like she did. No one else had known the things that she had known, no one else had seen Judith the way Joan had.

They had all seen her defiance of course, the rebellious side of the girl, but she was the only one who ever truly saw the softer side, with the exception of Adam who had been blessed to see it but once.

She had seen Judith's sadness and pain and vulnerability and hope. When they'd met Joan hadn't had hope left for herself, let alone to share, and when she'd needed it most, Judith had let her borrow some of her own--the hope no one else even realized she had because the girl had buried it so far down inside her.

Without hope, what is there?

Despair.

And despite how lost Joan had been, Judith had helped her move past the despair and back into the realm of hope and she'd regained a sense of self that she'd once feared gone forever. And now Judith was gone, and another part of Joan had disappeared with her. One that she knew for certain she could never get back, because Judith was dead and she wasn't coming back.

The winter seemed to go on forever, and Joan's growing sense of despair continued with every fallen snowflake as she dwelled on how Judith would never see another snowfall or fall in love or have kids or be at Joan's wedding. Without a doubt, Judith would have been her maid of honor, would have stood at her side as she had done all along, would have cried joyfully as Joan took her vows.

Sometimes when Joan thought about it she decided she never wanted to get married, or have children or anything that she'd ever dreamt of Judith being a part of because it hurt so much that sometimes she wished she would have died that night with Judith. And there was nothing around anywhere, no proof of Judith, of her best friend. Nothing that in a year someone could see, look at, touch, that would make them think solely of the once-vibrant albeit self-destructive girl.

The first day of Spring it rained, and the second there was still a hint of winter chill in the breeze, but on the third day, there was sunshine and Joan wandered outside the school during lunch hour, not in the mood to talk to any of her other friends. Despite the fact she loved them all dearly, none of them were Judith, nor could they be, because there was only one Judith Montgomery and she was gone. And with her, Joanith had disappeared.

She found herself sitting on the new bleachers that they had built at the end of fall, staring blankly into space, until a soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

It was the one she'd dubbed as the Slacker and she looked up at him silently, her eyes hurt and accusing. Most of the time she didn't actually blame Him for Judith's death, but other days were hard and everyone in sight was to blame, and God was certainly no exception.

"She left things behind, Joan," he told her softly, his baggy pants hanging loosely on his hips.

"Yeah. Pain," she said dully. "Broken hearts."

He smiled, and it was gentle and somehow calming to her nerves despite her lingering depression. "No. She planted seeds of hope everywhere. You're just not looking in the right places." His voice was soft and he turned and headed away without giving her a chance to respond, waving over his shoulder.

Joan stared after him for a long time before letting out a breath and slowly rising to her feet, cursing under her breath as she dropped her bracelet beneath the bleachers. Wearily, she made her way down to the ground and headed to the back of the bleachers, ducking to avoid hitting her head as she glanced around for the slim bit of silver that her parents had given her on Christmas.

Her gaze fell upon a patch of small, but already blooming flowers and the breath caught in her throat as her mind flashed back to months ago, to the garden she'd planted in that very spot that had later been bulldozed.

"_She was planting crocuses and tulips. And it doesn't matter if the ground gets bulldozed because they'll still come up in the Spring. She knew that,"_ He had told her.

Tears prickled at her eyes and she slowly knelt down to get a closer look at the small buds. They needed water, she realized. He had been right. What Judith had planted in the ground was growing.

And so was the hope.

Fini


End file.
